


The Hard Way

by Binsfeld



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabble, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binsfeld/pseuds/Binsfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief drabble done for a "BAMF Tabris" prompt on the kink meme. Warden Tabris cuts her way through a band of mercs to rescue her friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hard Way

"Blast!" Tabris shook sweaty strands of hair from her face, chest heaving underneath her plate mail as she strained to catch her breath. "How many _are_ there in this damned place? You'd think they were hiding a dragon's treasure in here somewhere."  
  
Zevran gave a theatrical sigh, nimble fingers already busy relieving the fallen of their coinpurses. "One can hope."  
  
Tabris made an impatient noise with her tongue, reaching up to wipe gore and sweat from her brow. "This is all Alistair's fault," she said, tone equal parts exasperation and concern. "I told that oaf not to go wandering off on his own. Shopping, honestly! There's too many people in this city on Logain's payroll, looking to cash in on the bounty he's put on the Wardens. I wouldn't trust that sister of his not to squeal that she's seen him in the city."  
  
"You had a close call there," Wynne observed, indicating the enormous dent a mercenary's mace had blown in the Warden's round shield.  
  
"Damn." Tabris scowled at the ruined shield for a moment before tossing it aside with a clang. Casting about, she selected one of the more heavily-armed corpses and relieved him of his shield.  
  
"I am beginning to think we are not welcome here," Zevran tsked, wiping the blood from his daggers off on the trousers of his last victim.  
  
Tabris snorted quietly. She hefted the shield, testing its weight, and tossed it aside. "Whatever gave you that idea?" She put her heel to one of the bodies and shoved it aside. Stooping, she stripped his arm of the kite shield and held it at chest-height with a thoughtful look. "Right," she said, apparently satisfied. She caught Zevran watching her out of the corner of his eye and gave him a flat look. "What?"  
  
"Nothing, my dear Warden," he said, a little too quickly. He laughed, flipping his daggers in his hands in a restless habit she'd caught him displaying more than once between battles. "I am always amazed at how much strength is in such a little package."  
  
"You're hilarious. And don't call me 'dear'." Tightening the shield's straps around her arm, she twisted her sword free from a blood mage's body with a noise that made Wynne flinch. "Come on," she said grimly, already heading for the last door with purposeful steps.  
  
Wynne hurried to catch up, holding up the hem of her robes to avoid the blood spattered across the length of the hallway. "If you let me go first, I can lay down a few paralyzing traps," she said, quiet but urgent. "We've already run across so many. There are bound to be many more behind that--"  
  
Tabris barely slowed down. She dealt a heavy kick to the door, right beside the latch, snapping the lock. The door fell open with a crash.  
  
"Or," Wynne sighed, "we can do it your way. As usual."  
  
"Her way is more fun," Zevran teased, slipping past her to cover the Warden's back.

Tabris lifted her shield the instant she stepped forward, anticipating the attack that came from just to her left. A steel blade screeched across its surface, and she stabbed underneath the shield to bury her sword in the guts of a surprised rogue. His leather armor did little to protect him from the powerful blow, and his death scream was nearly deafening up close. Tabris heaved him aside without pausing to watch him die, and slashed at the next man to come at her. Just out of reach of the backswing of her sword, Zevran was dealing swift death to anyone trying to flank her. Flashes of ice and fire flew over their heads, devastating the clumped group of mercenaries awaiting them in the middle of the room.  
  
It was, in a word, chaos.  
  
Screams, curses, and the crash of metal on metal rent the air. Tabris bullied her way through the thick of the enemies, shrugging off arrows that tried to find an opening in her armor, bashing in skulls with her shield, and meting out death left and right with controlled slashes and jabs of her longsword. Anyone foolish enough to try and get her from behind was felled by Zevran's deadly daggers, and Wynne's spells kept up a constant stream of bolstering energy that kept Tabris from noticing any but the more brutal attacks.  
  
She almost didn't realize it was over until she was actually standing over the body of the man she'd come to get.  
  
"Oh, hi," Alistair said weakly, his hesitant smile full of apologies. He was trussed up like a pig for slaughter, hands and feet bound with rough rope. "Nice of you to, er, drop in..."  
  
Tabris glowered at him, shaking the tip of her sword just under his nose. "Didn't I tell you to stick with the group?"  
  
"Yes, yes, all right, I'll never do it again, sincerest apologies, I'm a bad man. Um, are you going to cut me loose now, or...?"  
  
"I say you toss him over your shoulder and carry him majestically forth," Zevran chimed in, grinning wickedly. "Much more romantic, yes?"  
  
Tabris sighed heavily, stabbing her sword down into the floor so she could loosen the clasps on her chestguard a bit. "Cut him loose."  
  
Zevran complied, still teasing the prostrate Warden cheerfully.  
  
"Well." Wynne was looking around with distaste at the carnage, her knotted hands clutching her staff tight. "I must say, sometimes I don't think I'll ever get used to this." She studied the Warden for a moment, mouth pulled down in a frown. "It concerns me sometimes that the killing comes so easily to you. Tell me, is it because they're human?"  
  
"Don't start, Wynne. Just don't." Tabris yanked at the straps roughly, relishing the whisper of airflow as the chestguard eased away just a bit. She was sticky with blood and sweat, and more than ready to return to camp and enjoy a warm sponge bath and a long nap. Her own eyes tracked the room, checking for signs of survivors. Wynne's words nagged at the back of her mind, pulling the corners of her mouth down in unconscious imitation of the mage's own frown. Was there truth in the accusation?   
  
Did this slaughter, so different from the killing of darkspawn, inspire such righteous wrath because they were human men from Denerim? She had her reasons to hate them, but the thought troubled her nonetheless.  
  
Alistair rose to his feet, wincing and making pained noises as bloodflow returned to his extremities. She caught herself watching him, frown easing away as he began complaining of the harsh treatment he'd received. Always acting the fool, that man. He was so strange.  
  
 _I have too much anger in me,_ she admitted to herself. _But I don't think I can hate all humans the way I once did._  
  
"What?" Alistair caught her studying him, and reached up to pat his face. "They hit me a few times. I look like a bruised banana, is that it?"  
  
She snorted, looking away. "Your face has always been lumpy, Alistair. I can't tell the difference."   
  
She wiped the blood from her sword and slid it into its sheath with a quick, practiced move. "Let's go, then. We've still got a tyrant to overthrow."

 

**-END-**


End file.
